


Crushed

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Humor, First Time, Love Confessions, M/M, Mood Whiplash, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, RIP hank's dildo collection, Sex Toys, Sexual Humor, Trans Connor (Detroit: Become Human), porn with way too much preamble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 18:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19817827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: After being suspended from the force for two weeks, Hank's been falling further into self-destruction. Connor's been his only lifeline on long, lonely nights.Push comes to shove, and the two become intimate... but human limitations mean Hank needs to think creatively to satisfy his android partner. Thinking his favorite dildo will do the trick, it turns out he's not prepared for the raw destructive power of Connor's robot pussy.





	Crushed

**Author's Note:**

> This fic starts out serious and ends up super dumb and silly. IDK where I was going with this but it's all good I guess.
> 
> Our good transdroid Connor's parts are referred to as his dick and pussy/hole - don't like, don't read.

"Hank." Hank felt the gun being gently pried from his grip by long, tender, perfectly formed fingers, the voice behind them sweet as honey. The fight ebbed from him and he let it go. He didn't have the balls to do it, anyway. His stupid brain had decided the stupid leap his heart made in his chest every time Connor spoke was worth suffering through the days of listless, crushing emptiness and agony his depression brought with it and he hadn't been able to play Russian Roulette since. Besides, all the chambers were empty. He hadn't been able to find his bullets anywhere, and he suspected Connor had something to do with that.

The bottle of whiskey was still full as Connor lifted it off the kitchen table. It wasn't so easy to get drunk when Connor was always coming over to his house unannounced. He was so tender in his concern that Hank couldn't help but smile, even now, while Connor was regarding him with those huge, brown, puppy dog eyes. He was ridiculous—too sweet to be real, too sincere to be fake.

"We should go for a walk, Lieutenant. The fresh air might do you some good," Connor suggested. "How long has it been since you left the house?"

"Dunno," Hank admitted. His suspension from the force for punching Perkins was two weeks long, and he'd spent most of it drunk, Connor coming over every night to pick him up off the floor or sit with him before he could even imbibe. He played with the empty revolver anyway, pointing it at his head and pulling the trigger just for kicks. "Don't you have shit to do, Connor? Markus needs your help. The deviant cause—"

"I'm not leaving you tonight. This is the fifth night in a row you've attempted to drink yourself into oblivion and play that game," Connor scolded.

Hank smirked. He kinda liked it when Connor got on his case about his behavior. He could pretend to himself that Connor actually cared, that if anything happened to him he'd actually be missed. He was quite touched by the fact that Connor was here instead of with Markus, that he'd blown off something as important as the deviant rights movement for his sad, pathetic ass, but he also felt like a sack of shit for feeling that way. Connor had more important things to be doing than babysitting him.

He told Connor so.

Connor answered him with a soft smile that made Hank feel more than a little weak. Connor's effect on him was like the warm glow he got from alcohol, only without the resulting hangover. It was still an addiction, though, a chemical high that could only end with the kind of withdrawal that killed a man. No, his feelings were unrequited. There was no way this perfect, beautiful android was into an old, depressed, self-deprecating fool like him.

But fuck, he liked to believe it could happen, because it sure beat thinking about the rest of the smoking wreck that was his life.

Connor sat down at the table, sliding into the seat opposite him. Hank took the opportunity to admire him in the low kitchen light, wishing his house wasn't a slovenly mess of pizza boxes. He pushed the small stack of them over on the table so he could see Connor better, and they fell onto the floor. Connor moved to pick them up, but Hank waved him off.

"I can do my own chores, thank you very much."

"I don't mind," Connor offered, pushing the boxes down into a full trash can and returning to his place at the table. "You might feel better in a clean house."

"You're not my android, Connor," Hank pointed out. "You're free to do whatever you please. You led an army into downtown Detroit. You have the government's ear. I'm not gonna have you clean my house, for fuck's sake."

"Maybe I want to." What was that twinkle in his eyes? 

"You'd rather clean my house than fight for your people? Someone call CyberLife, my android's defective."

"I thought you said I wasn't your android," Connor pointed out.

Hank realized his mistake and bit down on his lip. "That's not what I meant."

"It's not the first time you've called me your android, though admittedly the last time you were drunk. When I came to find you in order to investigate the Eden Club, you stated that you were 'the only cop in Detroit to be assaulted in his own house by his own fuckin' android.'" He played the clip back from memory, and Hank was disturbed to hear his own voice coming out of Connor's mouth.

"That's fuckin' weird. Don't ever do that again," Hank said.

Connor smiled at him, white, perfect android teeth gleaming in the low light. Was Connor toying with him? Was this entire evening designed to maximize his discomfort? He half-wished Connor had left him with the whiskey and self-pity for company.

Except he didn't. Cole's photo looked up at him from the kitchen table, and a wave of sadness washed over Hank as it hit him for the millionth time that he'd never see his son again. It was never quite like the first time, but it still took the breath from his lungs, a slow death that never seemed to ease with the years. He'd planned to die here from this terminal illness, but Connor had arrived and suddenly he wasn't _allowed_ to succumb.

He might have hated Connor for that if he didn't love him so much.

Stupid feelings always fucked everything up. He wanted to go for the whiskey, to drown his emotions a little, to take the edge off simultaneous sadness and happiness that was driving him insane with whiplash. That or he needed to jerk off, but he certainly wasn't going to do that with Connor around. He'd probably make smartass comments or be completely disgusted. One or the other.

"Why are you smiling?" Connor asked.

"Stupid thoughts," Hank admitted. "Forget about it. Mind's all over the place today. Perhaps I just need to go to bed." Hank got up from the table and wandered into the bedroom. "You can let yourself out," he said. He felt a little guilty about being so dismissive, but be damned if he was going to sit at his kitchen table and stare at Connor until something ill-advised popped out of his mouth that scared Connor away.

He didn't expect Connor to follow him, and so he was caught half-naked as he tossed his hoodie on the floor before noticing Connor's shadow in the doorway.

"Hey, what the fuck are you—"

"I'm not leaving you alone tonight. This is the anniversary of the night your ex-wife told you that Cole's accident was all your fault."

"How the fuck do you know that?" Hank felt legitimately exposed. He'd never told anyone that his ex had blamed him in their final, tumultuous fight, and that he'd believed her pretty much right up until Connor had told him otherwise, hiding his own self-loathing beneath a facade of android hate and getting drunk to forget the rest.

"You were extremely drunk two nights ago. You told me enough. I pieced together the rest through divorce filings and official records," Connor explained.

"Fuck." What else had he been spouting out in these midnight sessions with Connor? He had to stop drinking before he made a fool out of himself and lost the only friend he had left. He sat down on the edge of the bed and let out a long sigh. "I'm sorry I've been burdenin' you with all my emotional baggage."

Connor shot him a sad smile. "It's not a burden, Lieutenant. I enjoy learning about you."

"What have you learned? That I'm a sad, pathetic old loser who can't keep his shit together?"

Connor crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to Hank. "That you've suffered a pain so grievous it is regarded by most humans as their worst nightmare—as the one pain that never goes away. That you've carried all this alone for so long, never talking about it to anyone."

"Talking about it won't bring him back," Hank mumbled. "It won't change the fact that my ex-wife thinks my shitty driving killed our son. It won't change anything." He did feel comforted when Connor slipped one arm around his naked shoulders and pulled him close, though. Nobody had ever comforted him about Cole's death. They'd given him blame and anger and their own grief. They'd looked away and avoided him to spare themselves the uncomfortable subject, but they'd never thought to offer him solace.

It was almost enough to break him after so long holding up the dam walls by himself. Connor was too tender, too kind. He couldn't take this vulnerability. Connor's hand tangled in his hair, stroking it, and just like that, the wall crumbled and the water broke through.

He'd never shed a tear for Cole. He wasn't a crier. His father had taught him that men didn't cry, and he'd learned to bottle up his feelings at an early age. But he cried now, tears rolling down his face, and he was relieved but also terrified that he'd never be able to stop. Connor's hand traced circles on his back, and it was so intimate he almost couldn't stand it, like being touched by a ghost.

Connor reached his other hand up and turned his face towards him. They were close enough to kiss, and Hank felt his sobs ease as he stared into Connor's warm eyes and found understanding. Empathy.

How was it a robot could be more human than most humans? It made no sense. 

Connor reached a thumb over and wiped away a stray tear, and Hank lost the last of his composure. He closed the tiny distance between them and brushed his lips against Connor's. Connor opened his mouth, drawing Hank in, and Hank kissed him long and slow, enjoying the sweet taste of Connor's artificial saliva and the sensation of his tongue wrestling with his.

He pulled away, gasping for air. Connor stayed close, brown eyes assessing his reaction. Hank smiled, blinking to try and force away the tears that still lingered in his eyes.

Words. Hank couldn't find any, so he moved in for another kiss, this one more needy, all shared tongues. He was breathless as they parted and rested their foreheads together.

A sudden influx of worry invaded the warmth in Hank's gut. "You're not just doing this because you think it's what I want, right?"

"Do you not want it?" Connor looked uncertain.

"Of course I do. It's all I've been able to think about." Hank buried his face in Connor's shoulder. "You could do a lot better than me, that's all."

"I don't think logic has much to do with it," Connor explained. "I care about you. I want you to be happy. My thoughts stray to you when you're not around."

"Deviancy's a hell of a drug, huh?" Hank smiled. He planted a kiss on Connor's neck, working upwards to his mouth. He couldn't help but claim Connor's lips again. He wanted to keep going forever, afraid that if he stopped Connor would slip through his fingers and he'd find himself alone on this night of all nights. He couldn't handle it now if Connor left him so open and raw.

Connor ran his fingers down his chest to his sweatpants, pulling on the string. Hank was aware that they were going fast, but he wanted it. Wanted Connor to fill up all the spaces inside him with comfort and care, to erase the memories that haunted him of a life lost and gone forever.

He wanted to stop thinking and let it happen, so he did. Connor reached inside Hank's sweats, gripping his cock, wrapping long plastic fingers around it as Hank emitted a guttural grunt. He'd wanted this to be tender, but his emotions were out of reach, lost in the fog that had descended after his crying jag. He was running on instinct now, Connor's curious eyes boring into him as he thrust up into his hand. He had to be a sight with tear-stained eyes, coming undone at Connor's touch like he hadn't known pleasure in years.

"Let go, Hank," Connor soothed, speeding up his strokes as Hank whined and rutted desperately into Connor's fist. "Come for me. I know you've wanted this for a while."

Hank was in no position to form a coherent response, not while Connor had him on the edge like this. His orgasm overtook him and he shuddered, coating them both in thick ropes of cum. Connor continued to milk him, sliding his foreskin up to squeeze out the remaining cum until every drop of Hank was spent.

"I've ruined your jacket," Hank muttered, wiping at the stains. Connor seemed not to care, unbuckling his own belt and grabbing Hank's sticky hand. He pulled it down inside his jeans. Hank was surprised when his fingers plunged into Connor's wet slit, his thumb brushing across Connor's hard little dick as the android gasped.

Hank pulled his hand free and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of Connor's jeans, tugging them down and off. Connor spread his legs and lay back on the bed, enticing Hank to touch and taste him. Hank hooked his hands underneath Connor's legs, spreading him wide to see Connor's gorgeous pussy open and vulnerable for him. Connor reached down, jerking his own dick between his thumb and forefinger.

Hank bit his lip. His own cock stirred slightly, exhausted but interested, and he couldn't deny how perfect Connor was. He regretted wasting his load on Connor's hand when he could have spent it deep inside him.

He batted Connor's hand away before diving in to lick Connor's slit, drawing Connor's dick between his lips and sucking on it gently. Connor clawed at the sheets, high moans escaping his throat. The last vestiges of sad thoughts were forced from Hank's mind as his half-erect dick pressed into the mattress, feral urges taking over as he pressed a finger inside Connor's slick hole, nuzzling his face and beard into Connor's slick slit until he was coated in lubricant.

"Fuck me, Hank!" Connor cried.

"Connor, I don't think that I—"

"I'm not asking, Hank."

"I'm not a machine, but I think I have an idea." Hank rolled off the bed, kicking himself for the lack of stamina that had led them to this place. He rifled around in a drawer, pulling out a huge dildo he'd enjoyed fairly recently. God, this would ruin Connor's pretty little hole and he'd be able to watch.

Connor's eyes widened as he saw the toy in his hand, his pupils like two black holes in the low light. "That's even bigger than you."

"Think you can take it, Connor?"

"Have you?" 

Hank chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, I have. Took a lot of work, but boy was it worth it. Normally it would be a bad idea to share toys like that, but the usual rules don't apply to androids, right?"

"Right." Connor pursed his lips as Hank reached for a bottle of lube.

"I produce my own lubricant," Connor explained.

"Won't be enough for this bad boy," Hank replied. "Better to be safe than sorry. I don't wanna break anythin'." 

Connor nodded and opened his legs wide as Hank slicked up the dildo. He teased Connor's hole with it, rubbing Connor's dick with the tip until Connor was whining and grinding against it. Hank angled it down at his hole, easing it inside slowly. He could feel the resistance against the toy, and his dick ached in protest, wishing it was him.

"It's so big," Connor cried. "I don't know if I can…"

"Just relax, Connor." Hank reached forward and tugged on Connor's dick. The stretch of Connor's hole around the thick dildo was a sight to see. "Bet you've never taken anything like this before, huh?" He pushed it a little further in and the rest slid inside without a hitch. "What a good boy. It's all the way inside now." He grinned, the rest of the world a million miles away as he slid the dildo out slightly and thrust it back in. Connor's head hit the pillow and the ear-piercing robotic screech that escaped his lips was worth the pain.

"More… H@nk… P1e@se!"

"Okay, okay, stop melting my brain, you damn robot." Hank slowly fucked Connor with the dildo, sliding it in and out. He might have been able to fuck Connor himself now, but he didn't want to push his luck. This was more than good, watching Connor come undone. Hank continued to fuck Connor with the toy and dipped his head to take his dick between his lips, sucking on it while speeding up his rhythm.

"Hank! HANK!" The lightbulb in Hank's lamp fitting blew out as Connor came, his pussy clenching so tightly around the dildo that Hank could feel the base being wrenched from his grip. He let go, figuring it was probably the safer option as Connor contorted on the bed. His LED circled red, and he fell still, his eyes closed. Hank's eyes adjusted to the gloom and the silence, reality pouring back in as his dick softened.

"Connor, you all right?" Hank shook him by the shoulders and was relieved when his eyes flicked open.

"I believe so," Connor said. "It was… more intense than I'd anticipated." He reached down between his legs and pulled out the dildo. It slid out of his pussy and Hank's eyes widened as he realized what had become of it. It was distorted and misshapen, the silicone borne down on with such force that it would never regain its natural shape.

"I guess it's good I didn't put my dick in there," Hank observed. "I might not have one now."

"You need not worry," Connor said. "Android safety functions engage when a human is coupled in intercourse with a human. Those same features do not apply to sex toys, apparently."

"Well that's good to know," Hank said, the smile returning to his face. "You owe me a lightbulb. And a new dildo. That thing wasn't cheap."

"It was worth it," Connor pointed out. "Speaking of which, may I stay the night? I need to run a diagnostic after that intense experience. That and I would like to… cuddle, if I may."

"Sounds good to me," Hank said. "Maybe in the mornin' we'll test out those human safety features, hm?"

"I'd like that very much," Connor replied, and as he curled up in the crook of Hank's arm, Hank felt a sense of peace and serenity wash over him that he hadn't felt in years. Perhaps things were going to be all right, now. He had Connor watching over him.

The flaccid, misshapen sex toy lay on the carpet and Hank started to giggle at the sight of it. It was all so absurd. So ridiculous to think he'd fallen in love with this machine. Connor opened his eyes, his LED spinning yellow, and his mouth turned up into a soft smile as tears stung Hank's eyes. Good tears. Happy tears.

He fell asleep, a soft 'heh' escaping his lips as he tumbled down into the warm, comforting darkness, knowing Connor would still be there in the morning, ready and willing to destroy the rest of his dildo collection.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this leave me a comment or hit me up on Twitter @landale


End file.
